Parallel Wor[l]ds

her fingers linger on
grappling hooks that had
never been
hooked on to
an edge; they fall —
the words just behind her teeth
float back into a wonderland
through a sinkhole gaping at
the back of her throat;
where realism competes and
loses

she forgets those
phrases
she might have said;
and
for days she lingers
at the precipice of

her tongue

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